Away
by The Tula
Summary: On Gallifrey, the Doctor receives a visit from an old friend and must make a difficult choice. Preseries Doctor/Master


** Away**

**Pairing:** Doctor/Master, of the Theta!One/Delgadoesque!Koschei variety.

**Rating:** Mostly harmless, mentions of slash

**Warnings:** Unbetad, One-related, angstastic SLASH.

After a falling out as violent and public as theirs had been, it was expected that Gallifrey's second most infamous duo would be putting as much physical and temporal distance between each other as possible, while respecting the Laws of Time. That was also what the Doctor had expected. He had no qualms about losing himself in his work, further burring himself in his hobbies and withdrawing from most of the circles the two had frequented together. Perhaps it was a juvenile reaction, but he was young and had, he thought, earned that small scrap of immaturity.

Koschei, however, was currently sitting in the Doctor's favorite armchair, posture straight yet relaxed enough that he looked at home. He had never really bothered with what was expected. When his eyes met the Doctor's, he relaxed further into the chair, a lazy smile stretching his lips.

His physical appearance was shockingly different from the regeneration who had set off the self-destruct function on their final project together, standing cold-eyed and furious amid the rubble. The silver haired man who had called the Doctor a small minded idealist, and the second most brilliant mind he had encountered, was gone, replaced by a young, thin faced stranger.

The Doctor had, of course, been aware of his former partner's regeneration. News traveled fast in the capitol, after all, useless news fastest of all. Regeneration by falling off one of the higher walkways the Panopticon was the sort of thing one joked about in one's later years at the academy, right before swapping tribophysics notes or running off to play a game of "I'm your future regeneration" on the first year students. If the rumors he had heard were accurate, it had been a messy, a rough regeneration that very nearly failed. That might explain the man's rather awkward physical appearance this time around. And the beard. The Doctor allowed himself a small feeling of gratitude that the current Castellan, a talented telepath and one of Koschei's cousins, had been there to pull him through. A small, bitter voice, which still identified with the symbols of his former nickname, whimpered that he should have been the one at Koschei's side.

Koschei's eyebrows rose towards his sleek, black hair and the Doctor drew himself up to his full height.

"How did you get in here, hmm?" He walked towards the man purposefully, pausing to lean on his cane and scowl. "I changed the bio-access codes."

"Indeed, you did." A small smile twisted the other man's lips and the Doctor bristled, before his eyes lit on the open window across the room. Ah-ha. He did try to leave things locked, as a matter of habit, but Susan liked fresh air. Besides, in the past few months he hadn't been particularly worried about unwanted visitors scaling the walls. Restraining himself from asking how, exactly, the Master had managed to make it up forty-two stories and whether his latest regeneration had taught him nothing, he proceeded calmly.

"What are you here for, then, hmm? I assure you, all of your possessions were returned," Crossing the room to his bookshelf, pulled out a small hardback, the most recent addition to his collection, flipping through it as though Koschei weren't there.

"I would hardly make the journey for something so petty." The feeling of Koschei's eyes raking over him was enough to make him snap the book closed.

"So what _is_ it that you want," the Doctor tucked his copy of the Time Machine into his jacket pocket, regarding his visitor coldly. "Hmm?" He added and Koschei resisted the urge to throttle him.

"Well?" He stepped forward, gesturing with his cane. "Come along, I don't have an infinite amount of time, my boy." Again, Koschei twitched in annoyance.

"No, you _don't_, do you?" He stood, robes falling around his new body in a way that wasn't entirely unflattering. "Really, Theta-- Or is it Doctor these days? -- you might as well just regenerate." Koschei circled the chair he had vacated, predatory brown eyes locked on the Doctor's. "Any day now that body of yours is going to fall to pieces "

"My physical appearance is hardy something you need concern yourself with anymore, Koschei." He saw the other man flinch slightly at that name. Good. If he was going to lash out with memories of the past, the Doctor had every intention of doing the same. "Now, if you don't mind--" Gathering his apparent age up around him, as though he wasn't nearly the same age as the young man currently standing before him, the Doctor turned back to the shelf.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Koschei started towards him, pausing at the pedestal that supported a small, authentic turntable the Doctor had created only a few months ago. "I did not come to talk you through your apparent regeneration phobia, amusing as that conversation would be. It has come to my attention that your name-your new name-has appeared in a large numbers of highly classified C.I.A. files and, recently, a rather severely worded indictment--" The Doctor froze.

"Impossible."

"Hardly," The dark haired man lifted the needle of the device curiously, not even bothering to meet the Doctor's horrified gaze. "You never were good at subtlety."

"I've done nothing to merit any such attention!" The Doctor was pacing furiously, hand tight around his cane. He wished he could dismiss the man's statements as exaggeration or some perverse form of revenge. Unfortunately, Koschei's preferred forms of revenge were never this subtle, and the Doctor was far too familiar with his former friend's connections with the Celestial Intervention Agency.

"I'm unsure what you've done, or haven't, to earn yourself a... strongly worded indictment." He continued, turning his attention to the small stack of records resting beside the machine. "The words Off World Interference come to mind--Or, perhaps they merely wish to peruse your substantial collection of--" He picked up a large brightly colored album. "Spikejoneses."

"Spike Jones," The Doctor corrected automatically, "it's a musician's name."

"Fascinating."

"Not particularly."

Slipping the record from its cover, Koschei turned the disc over several times, studying it. He ran the pad of a gloved finger experimentally along the vinyl, looking up at the Doctor quizzically when nothing happened

"Oh no, no," The Doctor strode over to him, letting out an exasperated sigh when the other man drew back, clutching the record close as though it were going to be snatched from him. "You're doing it all wrong," He explained in exasperation, and then, when Koschei made no motion to allow him to demonstrate, he retrieved another album from the stack. Abbey Lincoln, lovely. Removing it from its cover, the Doctor placed it reverently onto his turntable. "It's a relatively simple mechanism."

"How delightfully primitive!" Koschei exclaimed, bending to examine the machine as the soft, alien chords filled the room.

"If you could be bothered to actually study their culture you would know that the Earth people are much more-"

"And if you bothered to at least _pretend_ to follow proper protocol when it came to that dirtball you might not be under investigation for interference!" In an instant Koschei's wide-eyed curiosity, was gone and he regarded his former schoolmate with an accusing glare. "Perhaps if you put in an appearance in the Panopticon and at least attempted to create a respectable public image-"

"When it comes to the goings on in the Panopticon I am more than happy to practice non-interference." The Doctor laughed slightly, turning the album cover over and perusing the few paragraphs of block-like letters that covered it.

"This is no laughing matter." Koschei was still watching him intently, and the Doctor lowered the album cover, slightly guiltily.

"No, quite right, of course it's not."

"They're coming for you." He said it in such a calm, matter of fact tone that a small shiver ran down the Doctor's spine. "I can't be entirely sure when."

The record played on, dry little scratches marring the sweet, mournful chord changes. At last, Koschei broke the silence.

"Come with me." His voice was steady and commanding, with a thread of hypnotic suggestion the Doctor wasn't entirely sure he himself was aware of. Before he could speak, Koschei had stepped closer, finally standing close enough to touch, and continuing in a low whisper. "You're well aware that I have access to a TARDIS. We should leave now." His lips pressed together briefly, before he latched onto his final strategy. " You said you_ wanted_ this, remember?" The Doctor did remember, vividly, and dropped his gaze to where Koschei's robes were caught in a gaudy Prydonian clasp. Koschei chuckled. "Nothing's changed. We'll have the universe at our feet, just as we planned. Think of it, Theta." Temptation had always been one of Koschei's strong suits; since before he began experimenting with the power of psychic suggestion he'd had a knack for persuasion. The incongruity of the nickname, however, shattered whatever temptation he might have woven.

The Doctor shook his head slowly. Nothing had changed, their time apart had obviously had no effect on Koschei but to give him more time to slip into the Matrix unchecked, he was still speaking only of conquest and possession.

"No, no I most certainly will not." The step back he'd taken in retreat morphed into a slow stroll away, along the outer wall. The Doctor made a show of studying the familiar view. He could feel the Koschei's furious glare but managed to keep his eyes on the skyline. "We're both far too old for such naivety, hmm? It would never work."

"Don't be a fool!" He felt himself grabbed before he even heard Koschei move. "I'm not going to _lose_ you. " Brown eyes burned into his, and Koschei's new, strong fingers dug into his forearms painfully. It was, the Doctor realized dizzily, the first time they had touched in almost a year. "Not to something so nauseatingly avoidable." Avoidable like falling off of a Panopticonian walkway, the Doctor almost snapped.

"I hardly think losing me is something for you to worry about." Blue eyes met brown, and Koschei, trembling with anger, released him, stumbling back.

"I will not ask again, Doctor," The raw emotion he had seen in the other man's expression was gone, "You will be trapped here, you will die ihere/i." A small spike of fear shot between the Doctor's hearts, _no_.

"No, I think not," Because Koschei was obviously desperate and would, undoubtedly, return the next day, and because the Doctor had no plans on being there when he did.

"Very well." A familiar look crossed his new face as he drew in a breath, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding the Doctor solemnly. "Then this is-"

"Grandfather?"

"Ah, Susan." The Doctor turned, guiltily. "Your Koschei and I were simply-" The sound of boots on tile had him whipping back around in time to see the man's purple robes disappearing out the window. "Koschei!" By the time he made it to the open window, the Gallifreyan in question was speeding away on some sort of cobbled together hovering contraption; The way he had arrived, no doubt, the Doctor noted with a trace of amusement.

"Susan," He started again, avoiding the unnecessary and painfully complicated explanations. "Pack your things, I'll be back before you know it!" He chuckled to himself, "Yes, I will be back before you know it." Koschei-the Master, had been right in more ways than the Doctor wanted to admit; they needed to leave.

Susan started to protest, and then when it became clear that the Doctor wouldn't be talked around, asked whether she should make any attempt to organize his possessions.

He thought about it, looking over his bookcases of collected off-planet manuscripts, his inventions-and Koschei's, the few he hadn't been willing to return-and shook his head. No, no he was quite ready to throw it all away.

-----

When the Master returned, this time in his TARDIS, Theta's rooms were deserted. Very little was missing, but he knew immediately that the man had fled. Further more, he realized, he had only missed him by the narrowest of margins.

_"-away_

_Give your love, live your life_

_Each and every day_

_And keep your hand wide open_

_Let the sun shine through_

_'Cause you can never lose a thi-"_

He flung the primitive machine off its pedestal in a single, sweeping blow.


End file.
